


Flurries

by Keri T (Keri_1006)



Series: Episodes [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode: s01e05 Snowstorm, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keri_1006/pseuds/Keri%20T





	Flurries

Starsky held the phone receiver in his hand. He was sure what his next call needed to be, but unsure if he wanted Hutch to hear it. He glanced at his partner and found him sitting in the same position: head down staring at the floor. Starsky wondered if he was in shock, or just so overcome by what he’d had to do that he was numb. Whichever it was, his countenance convinced him that Hutch wouldn’t register who he was calling or what he’d be saying.  Starsky knew what Hutch didn’t: that Hutch needed him to make the call. Without hesitation, Starsky phoned their union rep and quietly explained what had happened.

Starsky knew Dobey was already working on their behalf at the station; back-up and an ambulance for Burke was on the way. Dobey himself would probably show up, too. For that Starsky was grateful, but he still wanted the union notified. After all, a cop was dead at the hand of another cop. This could blow up all over the station, to say nothing of the press. Starsky wasn’t going to have Hutch wading through any of it without all the protection he could provide.  

Starsky hung up the phone and went to Hutch, kneeling down to his level. “Back-up is on the way, partner.”

He stroked Hutch’s arm until Hutch finally raised his head and looked at him.

 _Jesus, his eyes_ ….

Their expression was nothing Starsky had ever seen in them before, and the depth of misery they held physically shook him. His own eyes filled in response.

“Hutch, don’t do this to yourself. It was self-defense—same as if it had been any scum on the street tryin’ to take you out. Same thing.”

Hutch didn’t respond, but Burke did. “You stupid young punks could’ve just left it alone!” Burke groaned and shook his head back and forth. “Why? Why do I have a slug in my arm? Why is Corman about to become worm food? I’ll tell ya why, ’cause you two couldn’t simply mind your own—"

“Shut the hell up, Burke! Just shut the hell up before I put my fist through your face!” Starsky’s emotions were whiplashing through him: anger, worry, fear, a kaleidoscope causing his stomach to roil. As furious as he was with Burke and the dead Corman, the level of worry Starsky had for his partner dwarfed that fury. Hutch wasn’t functioning right now, and Starsky knew it was up to him to control the scene and prevent anything from getting worse. It took an effort, but he forced himself to take several deep breaths, which allowed him to deliver his next words in a calm and measured tone. “Just sit there and be quiet, Burke. I’ve got people coming to deal with you.”

“They’ll be comin’ to deal with you, too, Starsky,” Burke said venomously. “You shot me! And your partner killed Corman! Yeah, they’ll be dealing with you, too.”

Starsky saw Hutch shudder and go an even paler shade of white and the fury was back on him. “Hutch and me got nothin’ to hide. You and Corman attacked us and you both drew your weapons. That’s what went down and that’s what they’re gonna know.”

He pressed his leg tightly against Hutch’s still form. “They’re gonna know something else, too, Burke.” Starsky kept his eyes on Hutch, which prevented him from seeing Burke’s face, but he was confident the man was listening. “They’re gonna know there’s a whole lot of stolen cocaine in this cabin. You’ll want to think about that when they question you, because you’ll have to deal with _me_ if you get one single fact wrong in your official statement.” Starsky kept a hand on Hutch’s upper arm as he turned his head to face Burke. “You better make sure we’re clear on that.”

~*~

As Starsky had assumed, Dobey arrived at the cabin along with several patrol cars, an ambulance, and the coroner’s wagon. By the time they got there, he had managed to get Hutch off the floor and in a chair. He was still silent, but taking occasional sips from a glass of water.

Dobey entered the cabin with a dozen men behind him, barking out orders like a drill sergeant.  Burke was soon loaded into an ambulance along with two uniformed police officers. Corman’s body was photographed over and over. Each flash of the camera made Hutch flinch, so Starsky stood behind him with his hands firmly locked on Hutch’s shoulders, trying to absorb each blow the camera delivered.

The police officers worked calmly and efficiently under Dobey’s orders. Soon the cocaine was on its way to the evidence bay, and Corman’s body was on its way to the morgue.

Dobey worked his way through the throng to them. “Are you two doing okay?” Dobey asked quietly, giving Starsky a glancing look before focusing on Hutch. “Hutchinson, are you holding up?”

Starsky felt Hutch square his shoulders slightly and Starsky gave them a squeeze, hoping to help shore Hutch up enough to answer their captain.

“Cap’n… Yeah, I’m holding up,” Hutch said. While his voice was a little shaky, Starsky released his breath, relieved that Hutch was finally talking.

“There’re things we’re going to have to take care of, Hutch,” Dobey said. “Things that can’t wait. Do you understand what I mean?”

Hutch nodded and cleared his throat. “You need my statement. And my gun… and I guess maybe my shield.”

The defeat in Hutch’s tone tore at Starsky’s heart. “Hey! No one’s taking your shield, partner. No way, no how. This was self-defense, pure and simple, and all we gotta do is tell ’em that.” Starsky looked hard at Dobey and was reassured to see him give a slight nod. “We just gotta tell them what happened.”

“Starsky’s right, Hutch. You need to—you both need to—explain what happened, but we’re going to do that at the station,” Dobey said. “I’m gonna ride back with you in Starsky’s car. It’ll give us a chance to talk privately.”

That surprised Starsky, but at this point all he wanted to do was get Hutch out of this cabin and away from the pool of blood he kept staring at. He gave Hutch’s shoulder a pat. “Come on, buddy, let’s head out.”

Hutch sighed and slowly got to his feet. “I, uh, left my… weapon… on the floor, I think.”

Dobey jumped in before Starsky could respond. “I sent it back to the station, Hutch. It’s on the way to ballistics along with Starsky’s weapon. We’re handling this crime scene carefully and professionally. No short cuts. No special favors. You both need to trust me.”

“We trust you, Cap’n,” Starsky said.  He steered Hutch out of the room, leaving Dobey behind to give instructions to the officers staying on the scene to continue collecting evidence. When the partners reached the Torino, Hutch crawled into the back seat without a word. Starsky waited for their captain to join them and occupy Hutch’s rightful place in the car.

~*~

Two hours later, Starsky was in the squad room along with what felt like fifty other people. His earlier opinion had been correct: this was big. Everyone from the head of public relations to the senior assistant to the chief loitered in the crowded room. Some of them tried to speak to him, but he shut them down with a curt word or nod. His focus was on Dobey’s office door. That’s where Hutch was giving his official statement to Dobey and some I.A. puke. And that’s where he needed to be: at his partner’s side, protecting him.

Starsky didn’t like being separated from Hutch on a good day, and this was most certainly not a good day. Dobey didn’t even give him a chance to plead his case, though. As soon as they’d arrived in the squad room, he had sent Starsky to an interrogation room with a lieutenant and someone from I.A. to give his statement and answer I.A.s questions, and he’d swept Hutch away to his office. Now, with his own statement over and all these people buzzing around him like malignant flies, Starsky had no choice but to cool his heels and worry.

He trusted the captain to do his best to guide Hutch through the choppy I.A. waters, but God this was still nerve-wracking. Who knew what Hutch might be saying behind the closed office door, in the shape he was in? Hutch was guilt-ridden over the shooting and might be heaping a boat-load of undeserved blame on his own shoulders right now. That’s what Starsky couldn’t trust. If only he’d been able to have a night with Hutch alone, talk to him, help him climb down off the cross Starsky feared he was nailing himself to.

That’s all Hutch needed: a little time and some of Starsky’s common sense to get drummed into his head, before Hutch’s own sense of right and wrong balanced him out again. What was Hutch saying in there?

Starsky didn’t trust the I.A. puke at all.

Hours or minutes later—Starsky could no longer be sure how fast time was passing—the door to Dobey’s office opened and the I.A. man stepped into the squad room without a look at anyone and made his departure.

Starsky sprang to his feet and hurried to the open door. “Hutch,” he said from the doorway, “you okay…? How’d everything go?”

Dobey grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him through the door. “Starsky, if you’re going to barge into my office, at least come all the way in and close the door behind you.”

Starsky ignored him and walked over to where Hutch was standing by the back wall. Starsky searched his partner’s face, trying to access his state of mind. He was grateful to see that Hutch had regained some of his color, and his eyes looked less haunted then they had been. Maybe they were okay. Starsky put his hand on the back of Hutch’s neck, the closest thing to a hug he could deliver in the captain’s office with the captain’s eyes on them. “Talk to me, partner.”

“I’m okay, Starsk,” Hutch said, and even gave Starsky a half-smile. “I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting out there…concerned.”

“Who was concerned?” Starsky said, and gave Hutch’s neck a little squeeze. “I was just bored hanging around with nothing to do…” He dropped the pretense of humor, knowing he couldn’t pull it off right now. “You told them everything that went down?”

Hutch nodded. “I told them everything. I told them the truth.”

Starsky looked at Hutch hard and Hutch nodded at him again. “I know I didn’t have a choice.”

Relief flooded through Starsky’s system like a drug. “Okay…okay, good…maybe I was a little concerned. But only because you sometimes get so—”

Dobey coughed loudly, and Starsky shot his boss a grateful look since he had forgotten his presence entirely. “Is he done, Cap’n? Do we still need to write the reports or are the statements enough for tonight? It’s been a hellava day and I’d like to take Hutch home.”

“Sit down, Starsky,” Dobey said while walking to his desk chair. “Hutchinson knows the situation but I want to make sure you understand everything, too.”

The relief Starsky had been enjoying was replaced with suspicion, but he kept his mouth shut and took a seat.

“Like I told you both on the way over here—and let me add _before_ I’d heard all the details—I have your backs,” Dobey said. “I’m going to do everything I can to help bring this situation to a close without a blemish on either of your records.”

Starsky had been so focused on Hutch that he hadn’t spent any time thinking of potential ramifications to himself for having wounded Burke. Now he wondered. He thought back to the look in Burke’s eyes when he’d aimed his weapon, and knew he’d done the only thing he could. He didn’t have even a twinge of regret. Burke drew on him with intent to kill; Starsky’s conscience was completely clear.

He took a few calming breaths, something he’d done a lot of in the last few hours. “I appreciate that, Cap’n,” Starsky said slowly. “I just wish the fact that me and Hutch told the truth and that neither of us did one damn thing wrong would be enough to keep our records blemish-free. Those simple facts. All on their own.”

“Starsk… Captain Dobey is on our side,” Hutch said, his voice clearer than the last time he spoke. “But I dumped a mess in his lap when I killed Corman.” He left the wall and took the chair next to Starsky’s, sinking into it and drawing his knees together tightly. “A big stinking mess.”

Starsky knew then that Hutch might sound better but he was still carrying needless guilt. “You know what, Hutch?” Starsky knew his tone was too sharp but wasn't able to temper it. “I’m a whole lot happier about _us_ dropping this mess than the alternative.”

“What alternative?” Hutch asked.

“It could’ve easily been Corman and Burke in here explaining how they’d put me in the hospital and you in the goddamned morgue!”

Hutch inhaled audibly, but Dobey was the first to speak. “Okay, Starsky, simmer down. I know you’re upset—”

“I’m not upset, Cap’n,” Starsky interrupted. “I’m just grateful my partner’s not dead… I’ll give him the time he needs to feel grateful, too.” Starsky laid his hand on Hutch’s briefly, then directed his attention back to Dobey. “So, what’s the deal? Am I in hot water for shooting Burke? Did he give his statement at the hospital?”

“The deal is simple,” Dobey said. “As far as I’m concerned this is cut and dry—you both acted in self-defense, recovered stolen cocaine worth a million dollars, and brought to light the criminal activities of men working for the BCPD. If I could, I’d congratulate you both on a job well done and we’d end it there.” Dobey sighed and leaned back in his chair. “However, you both know it doesn’t end with me. I.A. has to do their investigation and until they’re done you’re both relieved of duty with pay.”

“Relieved of duty!” Starsky shouted. “Why the hell—?”

“Starsky! How many times do I have to tell you to simmer down?” Dobey asked, his own voice rising with each word. “Yes! Relieved of duty, which you know is SOP. I _said_ we were doing this by the book—no short cuts—every step of the way.”

“It has to be Starsky, too?” Hutch asked quietly, staring at his knees. “Starsky didn’t kill anyone… Couldn’t it just be me relieved of duty?”

“No, Hutch,” Dobey said firmly. “Starsky fired his weapon and a man is in the hospital—prior to being in jail—but he’s in the hospital now. It has to be both of you.”

“My partner knows if he’s out of here, I’m out with him, bullshit or not, so he didn’t need to even ask the question,” Starsky said, speaking to Dobey but looking at Hutch. “I’d still like to find out if Burke has talked, though?”

Dobey nodded. “I had a call thirty minutes ago while I.A. was still here. The officer gave me a run down but I didn’t ask any questions. I’ll be doing that when I’m done with you two. What I know so far is that Burke indicated he’d cooperate as long as there was a lawyer and a deal waiting when he gets out of surgery.”

Starsky shook his head disgustedly. “That doesn’t mean he’s willing to tell the truth, which is all we need him to do!”

“I think he will, Starsky,” Dobey said. “We’ve got him cold on the cocaine and that’s a heavy fall. He’s gonna tell the truth if he wants any kind of deal that will allow him to breathe free air again sometime this side of the great beyond.”

“I need to step out for a minute,” Hutch said in a strangled voice, hurriedly getting to his feet.

“Hutch?’ Starsky started to rise, too, but Hutch was gone before he took a step. “I’m goin’ after him,” Starsky said to Dobey.

“I think you should give him the minute he asked for,” Dobey said, waving Starsky back. “He’s had a tough few hours.”

Starsky remained on his feet, willing to give Hutch a minute, but no more. “How bad was it for him with I.A.?”

“Not easy,” Dobey answered, “but not as bad as it could have been, either. I.A. kept the questions factual and allowed Hutch to give the whole story without being as condescending and suspicious as—well, you know I.A.”

“Yeah, I do. I know my partner, too, and this is gonna take him a while to get over, but he _will_ get over it. You know how tough he is. How strong.” Starsky was certain Dobey also knew that Hutch was sensitive and gentle, too, even if he didn’t know it to the degree that Starsky did. There was no mistaking the pain Hutch was in right now, so no need for Starsky to belabor it.

“I believe that, Starsky. Hutch will be fine, and so will you. Just let _me_ deal with everything here while you two try and unwind a little. Stay close to the phone. I don’t think this will take more than a few days to wrap up.” Dobey left his chair and came around to the front of his desk. “I, ah, feel a little guilty in what I’m about to say—it’s selfish.”

“What’s selfish, sir?” Starsky asked, torn between going after Hutch and listening to his boss.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the one to hire Burke or Corman—they were already here when I came into the department. I’m grateful I wasn’t responsible for their employment.”

“I understand, Cap’n. I don’t think it’s selfish to feel that way.”

“Maybe not that, Starsky, but I’m pretty sure it’s selfish that I’m damn glad you and your partner got the drop on those two and you’re both alive to drive me crazy.”

Starsky nodded. “Thanks. I’m gonna go get my partner.”

“Go ahead,” Dobey said. “I’ll be in touch in the morning… And Starsky?”

Starsky was opening the door. “Yeah, Cap’n?”

“When you think the time is right, please tell Hutch that I couldn’t stand Burke and Corman.”

“That’ll be my pleasure, sir,” Starsky said, and closed the door behind him.

~*~

Other than noting that the squad was no longer bursting with people, Starsky barely gave it a look as he strode to the men’s room where he was certain to find Hutch. After all, he was temporarily relieved of duty, and as far as he was concerned, that meant being relieved of giving a shit about the paperwork on their desk, too. Let someone else deal with it until he and Hutch were back where they belonged.

Starsky was walking so quickly that when he turned a corner he almost knocked his slow-moving partner to the ground. “Sorry,” he said and reached out to steady Hutch. “Wasn’t expectin’ to run you over—I thought you’d still be in the men’s room.”

“Nope,” Hutch said, and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Finished in there. Do you have any mints?”

Starsky didn’t comment on why Hutch wanted a mint while he searched his pockets. His back pocket revealed a crumpled stick of gum and he handed it over. “I think I’ve been carrying that around a while.”

“That’s okay,” Hutch said. He unwrapped the gum and popped it in his mouth. “Better I chew a piece of old gum then open my mouth in Dobey’s office and have my breath knock him on his ass.”

“You’re not worried about knocking me on my ass?” Starsky asked, sensing it was okay to tease just a little.

“No, I’m pretty sure you’ve smelled me less than minty-fresh before and remained on your feet, but Dobey hasn’t.” Hutch chewed quietly for a moment and ran a hand over the back of his hair. “Okay. I’m as ready as I’m going to get. Let's finish this meeting.”

Starsky was happy to deliver a bit of good news. “We don’t have to. The meeting is over. Dobey said he’d call us in the morning and all we have to do now is go home and stay near the phone.”

Hutch closed his eyes briefly and then offered Starsky a half-smile. “Did you fix that up?”

“Nope, all Dobey. I was ready to sit there as long as it took, but the captain released us. And he shared a few comments with me that I’ll share with you once we’re at your place…or my place. Whichever one you want.”

Hutch took a second to reply, staring at his feet before he raised his eyes. “I think I want that to be me at my place and you at your place, partner. I’d be real lousy company.”

“Who cares about that?” Starsky said with a grin. “Hate to tell you, Hutch, but I don’t stick around you because of your repertoire of jokes. We’ll just hang out, same as always. Maybe there’s a game on TV we can watch.” Starsky touched Hutch’s hand. “Or maybe we can talk some.”

Hutch shook his head sadly. “No. Not tonight, Starsk. I need to be on my own—I need to think; go over everything. I need to figure out how to put this behind me, and most of all, I have to figure out why I feel so badly about killing someone who was trying to kill me.”

“We can do that together,” Starsky said. “We always figure out the crappy stuff together—especially the crappy cases.” Starsky glanced around the empty hallway to ensure there was no one around. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

Hutch shook his head. “It’s the _only_ idea for me,” he said sharply, but in a microsecond his features softened and he offered Starsky a small smile. “Give me a little space, okay, partner?”

Starsky knew he could wheedle a touch more and Hutch would fold. He’d allow Starsky to take him home and force-feed him a sandwich and talk to him until they both fell asleep in exhaustion. Starsky could win this one, but Hutch would lose, so Starsky tamped his worry back a notch and nodded. “Okay. But I’m bringing donuts over in the morning bright and early, got it?”

“Got it, and I’ll be sure to give you a hard time while you eat them.”

“Just like always.”

“Just like always,” Hutch said, and with a wave he walked away.

~*~

By his fourth trip to the refrigerator, Starsky decided there was nothing he was interested in eating. Just like there was nothing he was interested in watching on TV, and there wasn’t a book in his apartment he wanted to read. He paced the kitchen a few more times, and then willed himself to settle on the couch to try to get his brain to stop racing.

Starsky disliked introspection; it wasn’t his style. He was a clear-headed thinker who preferred to put thought to action as quickly as possible. Unlike Hutch, who could worry a thought to shreds. But Starsky had to be introspective now because his brain wasn’t processing clearly. What was bothering him was more than concern for Hutch wallowing in misery on his own, but he couldn’t figure out just what that was.

He snapped on a lamp as if that would help him see inside himself more clearly, and all at once recognized his emotion.  Rejection. Hutch had rejected him and it stung. Starsky leaned his head back on the cushion and closed his eyes. Knowing what was making him feel this way didn’t do a damn thing to help. This was the first time Hutch hadn’t wanted him around when he was hurting. What was different this time?

They were as close as ever, Starsky knew that. True, they hadn’t fooled around with each other in weeks, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual…was it? Now that he was focusing on their very private sex life, the memory of their last encounter came rushing in. The last encounter when Hutch had delivered a blowjob that had rocked Starsky’s body, and a word that had left him reeling. He started worrying about Hutch at that moment, and now he knew he had never stopped. Today's events only brought it to the forefront.

“Bisexual.” Starsky whispered. _Hutch thinks he’s bisexual._ Starsky rolled that thought around. This was the first time he’d allowed himself to think about it since that day. The word scared the shit out of him. The implications of what could happen to Hutch; what could happen to _them,_ scared the shit out of him.

What if Hutch started dating guys?

“Would Hutch really do that?” Starsky asked out loud, somehow needing to hear the words. His heart rate picked up speed and he could hear each breath as he inhaled and exhaled.

_He wouldn’t. Not a chance he’d put either of us at risk like that, and there’s no need to. He’s got me. He can always come to me if he’s hungry for something he can’t get from a girl. Always. So, I can stop worrying about this because it’s bullshit! Hutch wouldn’t do that…._

Another memory surfaced and choked back the soothing thoughts. _But wasn’t I--not ten minutes before he dropped to his knees and took me in his mouth--going on and on about how we needed girlfriends? That a hot chick would solve all his confusion. Yeah, that was me, and then I came in his mouth and yelled his name._

Starsky indulged in the memory, hearing the sound of his zipper coming down; feeling the tug of his jeans and underwear being pulled and manipulated by those strong masculine hands; feeling Hutch’s warm breath on his bare cock and balls….

Pinprick flickers of pain started at Starsky’s temples and he rubbed them carelessly, ignoring the twitching inside his jeans.

_Maybe that’s part of why Hutch wanted to be alone tonight? Maybe he wasn’t rejecting me, just the way I might try and make him feel better? Maybe he’s confused about sex with me now? Would I have done that? Come on to him when he’s this beat down? I don’t think I would have…I didn’t want him to be alone and miserable, that’s all. That’s all. I really think that’s all._

The pinpricks turned into throbs, and Starsky got off the couch and turned off the lamp. It was time to find some aspirin and take all these thoughts to bed. He hoped sleep would ease his own pain.

~*~

Starsky parked the Torino on Hutch’s street and grabbed the bag on the passenger seat. He had purchased donuts as promised, along with two large bottles of orange juice and two blueberry muffins. Starsky learned long ago that sugar and white flour didn’t bother Hutch at all as long as there was fruit mixed in.  He smiled briefly at the vagaries that made Hutch’s personality complicated. He wondered what mood his partner would be in this morning.

He didn’t have to wonder long. Hutch opened the door before he’d knocked twice, and his smile was warm and welcoming. “Had a feeling you’d be getting here about now.”

“I have a key, ya know. You didn’t have to wait by the door half-dressed with wet hair,” Starsky said, jutting his chin at Hutch’s bare chest and moving toward the kitchen. “You need a towel.”

“The phone rang while I was getting ready, Starsk, and I came out here to answer it. I assure you I wasn’t waiting by the door, even if I am hungry.”

“Hungry for donuts?” Starsky asked, taking a beautiful chocolate glazed specimen out of the bag and holding it up for Hutch’s inspection. “This one could be all yours.”

“Are donuts all you brought? You didn’t get me anything?”

The disappointed look and tone, coupled with the smile that had greeted him on his arrival, felt so normal, so every day, so wonderful, that Starsky was tempted to believe that Hutch had put the nightmare of yesterday behind him. Tempted, but not convinced there wasn’t still damage remaining. He’d go slowly until he figured it out.

“I got you orange juice.” Starsky put the donut down and grabbed one of the bottles to wave at Hutch. “You love orange juice.”

“Yeah, I love orange juice, but I’m hungry. You know, for something to chew.” Hutch brushed a strand of wet hair off his forehead, and had to do it again when it fell right back. “Oh, well. I’ll scramble some eggs once I finish getting dressed…and dry. I hope I have eggs.”

“Or, you could have one of these,” Starsky said, producing one of the blueberry muffins with a flourish.

Hutch gave him a grin of appreciation. “That looks good. I knew deep down you wouldn’t hold out on me… now, how about you putting on the coffee while I dry my hair and get a shirt on."

“I can do that,” Starsky said to Hutch’s retreating back. “You do know the muffins are made with sugar and flour, though, right?”

“They also have fruit,” Hutch said without turning around. “And fruit is very—”

“Good for us,” Starsky finished for him. “Seems like I’ve heard that before.”

~*~

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the table after ravenously polishing off every crumb from the donut shop, and working on second cups of coffee. Other than mutually appreciating the food they were devouring; no conversation had happened yet. Starsky took another sip and then dove in. “I’m real glad to see you’re feeling a lot better this morning. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t worried about what you were spinning in your head last night.”

Hutch looked him straight in the eye. “I know you were, buddy, and if the situation had been reversed, I would have felt the same. So, believe me when I say I appreciate your giving me the time I asked for.”

“And you probably know I’m wonderin’ just why being alone last night was the right way for you to deal with everything.” Starsky hoped he was speaking in the right tone and didn’t sound annoyed, or worse yet, hurt. “That’s not our usual way.”

Hutch sighed and then blew out a breath. “Because if you’d been here with me you would have been…you. Caring, concerned, sympathetic, logical. You would have reminded me that we’ve both had to justifiably kill before, and that it’s never easy, but sometimes it really is kill or be killed. You would have said that it’s the worst part of the job, and that we always know that risk is there every single day.”

“Sounds like I was going to be really chatty,” Starsky said, making Hutch smile.

“I think so, and if you’d said all that and then maybe hugged me or something…I probably would have been bawling like a three-year-old. I didn’t wanna do that.”

“You know I don’t think that crying is unmanly, or something stupid like that, don’t you?” Starsky asked. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t ever cried before.”

“When was the last time?” Hutch asked. “When you were a kid? Because I’m your best friend and I don’t remember ever seeing you really cry… But that doesn’t matter right now. To answer your question, no, I don’t think you would have thought it was unmanly. I just didn’t want my emotions to overwhelm my brain. I needed to think clearly. I had to put the pieces together.”

“Okay, so how’d you do that? How did you go from sick to your stomach and as depressed as I’ve ever seen you, to the calm and smiling man sitting beside me now with blueberry muffin crumbs on your lip? All in the span of eleven hours?”

Hutch laughed a little and brushed at his mouth. “I got out a notebook and wrote it all down.”

“You mean, you wrote your official report?”

“No, I mean I wrote the stuff down that isn’t going to go in my official report,” Hutch said and gave Starsky a slow look. “I wrote down what it felt like to be overwhelmed by a man who outweighed me and was as mad as hell.” Hutch paused and took a loud breath. “I wrote down what it felt like when Corman had my own gun jammed under my chin.”

A wave of goosebumps rose up on Starsky's arms. “That piece of shit. He could’ve blown your head off.”

“Yeah, he could’ve. It was close, Starsk. It made me sick to think you could’ve found me like that. I’m pretty sure I know what that would have done to you… Anyway, I made myself really think about the details—what happened when, and how…and I wrote it down. I managed to get a knee to his balls and that let me get the upper hand enough to make him lower the gun… then we struggled some more… and then—”

“And then your gun went off and you killed the bastard in self-defense.”

Hutch nodded. “I killed the bastard in self-defense. I knew that after it happened. I knew that when I was sitting on the floor of that miserable cabin. I knew it when I gave Dobey my statement. I _knew_ it, but all I could _feel_ then was that I had killed a brother cop, and the guilt was like nothing I’d ever felt before.”

Starsky reached across the table and gripped Hutch’s forearm. “But now that you’ve engaged that brain of yours, you’re on top of it, right? That guilt is gone?’

Hutch used his free hand to cover Starsky’s. “No, it’s not gone. It might not ever be all gone, but I figured out last night that I can live with it.”

Starsky shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to live with it; you’re completely innocent…but I guess we’ll just have to work on that. Together, right?”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Hutch said, and gave Starsky’s hand a little pat. He picked up his cup and drained what was left.

“So, after you wrote down what--knowing you--was probably ten pages of detail, did you get some sleep?”

“Nope, not then, and I was exhausted, but I was also restless, you know?”

“Yeah, I think so… That might have been a good time to call me.”

“I was hoping you were asleep by then, so I took a walk. I walked a long way, actually, and before I knew it, I was at that little shopping center, the one with the ice cream place you like and that coffee shop we go to sometimes.”

Starsky could feel his eyes rolling. “You can be such an idiot. That’s close to four miles away, and you just strolled along in the middle of the night without your gun or any protection—”

“And yet you can see for yourself that I’m in one piece, so I managed it without a disaster or anything. In fact—”

“Sometimes you really piss me off!” Starsky interrupted.

“Yeah, I know, but as I was saying, the fact is the walk had a sweet reward to it.”

“Oh, good, you were rewarded for being an idiot.”

Hutch laughed. “I really was. I met someone in the coffee shop.”

Starsky’s annoyance dissipated instantly and was replaced with intense anxiety. He had to make an effort to control it and get a smile on his face. One he knew was shaky. If Hutch was about to tell him he’d met a man—

_Oh, God, did he meet a man? Is that what he’s about to tell me? What am I going to say if he tells me that? What if he’s met a man he wants to have sex with?_

“Starsk? You’re smiling like the Joker, what’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy to hear I met someone. You _wanted_ me to meet someone.”

It took another thirty seconds before Starsky was able to relax the ridiculous grin on his face to something human, and to control his heart rate with a few breaths. He felt Hutch staring at him. “I did, Hutch, I _do._ So, tell me about this…someone.”

Hutch relaxed and gave him the kind of smile Starsky knew he was incapable of now. “Well, she’s real pretty, and really sweet.”

Starsky could feel every muscle in his body relax at the same time, leaving him slightly light-headed. _She. It’s a she. Hutch met a girl. Thank God, it’s a girl._

He could talk now. He could breathe again. “Pretty and sweet are good things in a girl. Was she there to have a late-night cup of coffee, too?”

“No, she works there. Waitress. She’s brand new in town and trying to get settled. Her shift ended somewhere around my second cup of tea—I was drinking tea, not coffee—and I asked her to join me. I thought I could use the distraction, and she’s so pretty….”

“And that was that, huh? You asked her out?”

“Sure did. I’m taking her to dinner tonight. Our being off work right now might have a silver lining—I’m hoping I can get to know her a lot better, and I want you to meet her, too. Maybe you can call Cindy or someone else in your little black book, and we can double this week.”

“Maybe you should slow down, partner. See how your first real date goes before you set up a double.” Starsky wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling on top of relief right now, but he knew it was nice—really nice—to hear Hutch being excited about something.

“I have a good feeling about her, Starsk. She’s special.”

“Yeah? Well, what’s this special lady’s name?”

“It’s as pretty as she is,” Hutch said. “Her name is Jeannie.”

 

The end


End file.
